The Other Shieldmaiden (A Lord of the Rings Fanfiction
by Megster24601
Summary: He is a lonely elf, far away from home. She is the younger sister of the infamous Éomer and Éowyn, prince and princess of Rohan. They come from two different worlds, and their families - along with the looming War for Middle-Earth - tell them they could never be together. But everything is changing . . .Everything.
1. Chapter One

_Eighteen Years Earlier  
_ King Théoden's breath came out in short gasps, the sounds of screams echoing down the stone hallways guarding him to the room he was looking for. The door was shut, although it's help was minimal - the woman's cries of pain could be heard from one wing of the castle to the other.

Théoden thought of what he had to tell her, the horrible news he had to bear, and his eyes filled with tears. He would use words like _valiant_ and _noble_, telling her that he _died a hero's death_. Empty reassurances, as if it mattered now, that he was gone. Éomund. He never even knew about this little one, and now he never would.

The king began to cry softly. He knew he had to go in there. He told himself to get together, to straighten up. Of course it didn't help. If anything, it made his acute pain worse. He could remember, back when Éomund had just begun to court his sister. Like any brother, he had hated the man at first. But over the years, they began to get close, and by the time Éomund had marched off to his last battle, Théoden had considered him one of his best friends. He couldn't imagine what the news would do to Théodwyn. She had adored her husband with a love he returned, until the very end.

A small boy with ragged blonde hair emerges from the shadows of a doorway, where Théoden knew he had been for a while. The king straightened up, wiping his eyes. _Be strong for the boy_. "Uncle," the child whispered, his big brown eyes filled with tears. "Is everything all right?"

Somehow, Théoden managed to force a smile. "Of course. Your mother will be just fine, Éomer. Go on to sleep. The hour is much too late for you to be in the halls."

Éomer, obviously relieved, nodded. "It-I wasn't asking for me. It's Éowyn, you see - she was scared."

"It's all right, for you to be frightened as well, my boy," Théoden said, kneeling down to Éomer's level. "All the best men are." He glanced up to see his son, Théodred, coming down the hall. All though he was all of eleven, only two years older than his cousin, Théodred already played the part of a warrior. His mouth was set, as if trying to keep back tears. He knew about Éomund, Théodred was sure. Knowing his son, he had probably been eavesdropping.

"Come, cousin," Théodred said, putting his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Let us go join your sister in a less dreary part of the castle, shall we?" Éomer nodded, hastily wiping his eyes before turning his back on his uncle. Théoden could feel his defenses crumbling, watching the two boys cling to each other walking down the hall. Before he could collapse again, he turned away, steeling himself and going in.

The sight was not a pretty one. Théodwyn was lying facedown on a table, sweat and tears mixing on her face as she screamed. Théoden strode to his sister and grasped her hand. She clutched it so hard he feared he might not be able to hold a sword again.

After several torturous minutes, his sister's screaming stopped, replaced by gasping, and her grip slackened. The midwife came around from the back of the table holding a small ball of flesh. "You've got yourself a beautiful little girl, miss," she said, with a gap-toothed smile.

The baby had it's mouth gaping open, finally managing to let out a wail. Théoden sighed in relief and smiled at Théodwyn, who was holding the baby tenderly, looking at it as if it was her whole world.  
When a few minutes had elapsed, s

he let her brother hold the baby for a minute, too weak to hold her arms up for too long. Théoden looked down at the small bundle of life in his arms, already feebly kicking, with awe. "Her name will be Éolaina," Théodwyn whispered, tearing her eyes from her child for the first time. She smiled. A small, exhausted smile - but a smile nonetheless. "I cannot wait to tell Éomund. He will be so pleased - we had talked about having another, you know."

As she looked at him, he found he couldn't smile back, although he had vowed to wait a few days before telling her. At his name, said out loud, Théoden found he couldn't keep his strong façade, and try as he might, this did not escape Théodwyn's notice. "Théoden," she whispered. "Has anything happened to my husband?"

He swallowed, trying to force out a lie. But he couldn't. He could only watch as his already weakened sister began to sob, heartbroken, gut-wrenching cries. She collapsed, shoulders shaking, into the blankets. This baby had been discovered after Éomund had gone to war, a real surprise. Seven years separated Éowyn and this baby, compared to two between her and Éomer. One of the things that had gotten Théodwyn through this was imagining the look on her husband's face - she had told this to her brother before, and now Théoden felt responsible for crushing her hopes.

The king, still holding baby Éolaina gently, looked over at his sister again. Her shoulders were no longer shaking. There was no movement in her body, and the midwife was already crying over her. _Too many tears_, he thought, looking down at the newborn in his arms. She was wailing, and reaching out for a mother that didn't answer.  
That would never answer.~

Théoden took baby Éolaina to see her brother and sister, knowing that neither was asleep (nor was Théodred, who retreated to a corner when his father came in). Gently, he handed her to Éomer, who looked at the figure in his arms with awe. As if she knew it was too much for him alone, Éowyn twined her arms under his, so that they were both supporting the baby, looking down it her with expressions filled with nothing but love. Théoden smiled, a tear slipping from his eye before he could stop it. He'd give them tonight. One more night of living in their cushion of safety, with no way of knowing that the only family they had left were the ones standing in this room.

A/N  
*All characters belong to the ingenious JRR Tolkien (besides, of course, Éolaina). I don't claim any of them, or anything else belonging to Mr. Tolkien.


	2. Chapter Two

*Being a fanfiction, I am allowed to take certain creative liberties that usually, I would not. For example, one user pointed out that Éomer, Éowyn and Théodred's age differences were incorrect. However, I had already made all my planning with them being those ages, so I am going to keep them (for now). Please just keep in mind (especially in this chapter) that the story may not align perfect with the book/movie. Thank you :)

_Five Years Later_

"Legolas . . ."

The voice was a whisper. Legolas reached his hand out, trying to touch the figure floating in front of him. A smile pulled at his lips as she ran away, remembering endless games of chase when he was a boy. He played along, running after her, making sure the ends of her long dark hair were always in sight. Suddenly, he rounded a corner, and she was no longer there. Her voice lingered, echoing through the trees. "Legolas . . . Legolas . . . _Legolas . _. ."

The voice got louder and louder until it was the only thing he could hear. He dropped to his knees, covering his ears and screaming silent screams - until, gasping, he jerked awake. Tears were flooding in his eyes. He had been so close. So close to seeing her again. But he couldn't. His mother was gone once more.

The voice he had heard in his dream was a messenger, sent to wake him up. The Mirkwood elves of the Woodland Realms were going to Rohan, starting their journey today. They hadn't even spoken to a man (or, at least, he hadn't) for centuries, but his father, the king, was going to settle some border disputes. Or something of the sort.

Legolas answered the messenger's call, and he could hear the footsteps going away. He stayed in his bed for a moment, closing his eyes, trying to stop the tears. He shouldn't be crying. He shouldn't still be grieving over his mother. Almost half a millennium had gone by since her passing, but he was still haunted with nightmares. She was the only Mirkwood elf to have died, at least since his birth. That knowledge only made the pain more acute.

Finally, he got up and got dressed, masking his pain with a face of indifference, as usual. He met Thranduil, his father, in the wide clearing where the ten elves going on the journey were meeting. As if seeing traces of tears in his son's eyes, Thranduil put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Legolas remained stiff, afraid that the slightest waiver would cause him to break open.

When they had saddled and begun their journey, Thranduil rode up beside Legolas. "Remind me again why we are making this trip, Father?" he asked, fiddling with one of the many arrows in his saddlebag.

Thranduil sighed. "Men . . . They are very different from us. The fact that their time on earth is limited is reflected in everything they do, causing them to act on instinct before thinking it out. Countries and kingdoms have fallen because of the rash actions of Men. I can't afford to risk an attack on Mirkwood, so I am attempting an alliance with the king of Rohan."

Legolas only nodded, and returned to his brooding. Thranduil looked at his son, as if perplexed. In the years since his mother, Evanna, had died, Legolas had become only a shadow of his former self. He had thought after a few years, a few decades, his son would begin to feel whole again. It's been centuries - almost half of his life.

Throughout the almost three day journey, Thranduil kept an eye on his son. At night, when the elves danced in the starlight, Legolas sat by himself, eyes trained to the sky. For the first time in a while, Thranduil saw a look of pure contentment on his son's face. The only reason he was making Legolas come was that perhaps a change of scenery would be better for him. Perhaps, by the time they got back to Mirkwood, he would have seen one of his son's rare smiles. At least, so he hoped.~

Legolas felt his father's eyes on him. At night, under the stars. Under the bright sun, while they were riding. He wished that he was a son Thranduil could be proud of, that he wasn't so weighed down by grief that he didn't even recognize himself. But he couldn't change that, even if he tried. It was as if his very soul had been crushed, and he hated himself for it.~

Rohan, once they entered it, was beautiful. Although his heart would always be with the elves, this world of Man was not as bad as he had pictured it, with it's rolling farmland and small villages. His father rode up beside him. "About an hour's ride to Edoras, the capital. King Théoden should be waiting for us there." Legolas nodded, and watched as his father turned away.

He suddenly felt an urge, a longing. "Father," he said before he could restrain himself. "Will you ride with me?"

Thranduil looked strangely happy at the simple request. "Of course, my son." And, together, they entered the city of Edoras.

The progression of elves caused many of the Men to stand outside their homes, watching as they went to the castle. Children looked at them in reverent awe, with the adults more skeptic. Legolas was almost glad to get into the castle, shielded from their stares.

They came into the grand entrance room. King Théoden was sitting in his throne, the picture of diplomacy, looking like a monument of a forefather. Legolas thought momentarily that he was glad his father never sat like that.

The statue rose, beginning to speak. "Elves of the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood, the people of Rohan welcome you, as do I. May I introduce you to my family?" There was a moment of silence before he continued, in which Thranduil nodded. "My son and heir, Théodred." A teenage boy standing beside the throne bowed. "My nephew, living under my guardianship. Éomer, son of Éomund." A boy, standing a little behind the first boy as well as a little younger, bowed as well. "My nieces, Éowyn and Éolaina." Two girls were standing next to Éomer, and they curtsied, the younger one wobbling. She couldn't have been older than five or six, and her sister twelve or thirteen.

A strange feeling broke through Legolas as he watched the little girl, who sighed and rolled her eyes, tapping her sister on the shoulder, lolled her head to the side and sticking her tongue out. It was like seeing a ray of sun on a cloudy day, and Legolas almost felt like laughing - a feeling he had not had in too long.

Thranduil introduced his company, each of them making the sign of peace for the Woodland Realms. Whenever he got to Legolas, the girl's eyes lingered on him, and after a moment she grinned, whispering something to her sister. In her, Legolas saw life. Not like the elves, who had been living so long nothing managed to amaze them. In this little human, he saw something that wouldn't last forever, and as young as she was she seemed to know that.

The elves were herded into their chambers, then left to their own devices until supper. Once Thranduil made the alliance, probably in the next few days, they were to leave - but, to his surprise, Legolas found that he didn't want to. Human children had something elvish children didn't, and the only solution he could come up with was that they took time and grabbed it, not wasting a minute.

The first time he saw the sisters from the throne room without their tightly pinned updos, he was walking along the grounds and happened upon them, falling in behind them before stopping in surprise. The elder girl - Éowyn - had long blonde hair that curled down to her waist, the same shade as her brother's. But the youngest girl's was a different shade entirely - a rich, chocolate-y colored brown. From the back, it reminded him of walking behind his mother. Long, slightly unruly. Within a few shades of that color. Except, of course, she had been much taller, and he much shorter.

The girls turned off onto a path leading in the woods, but he kept along the path, meandering for a while in the gardens before heading to the castle. He had so much to think about, but there was so little time.

As he entered the castle, Thranduil greeted him. "The alliance is made. We shall leave in the morning." Legolas nodded, mute, taking his cloak off just as the sisters came in. With a respectful nod at them, he hurried to his room, looking back to see the dark-haired one pick something up.

In a haze, Legolas packed his things, taking in everything that he could about this world of Man. All throughout supper he didn't say a word, merely observed, his eyes mostly settling on the little girl. Éolaina. She would laugh and chatter, surrounded by her sister and brother. She was definitely the baby of the three, and the older two, especially the brother, looked after her protectively. Although he hadn't said a word to her, he felt that he would miss her.

Once the crowd separated, heading to their rooms for the night, someone pulled on his sleeve. To his surprise, it was her. Éolaina. Perplexed, he only looked at her for a moment, before remembering the proper greeting. "Hello," he said.

"Hello," she said shyly. He wished she would laugh, but of course she wouldn't with just him. He was a stranger to her.

"What do you want?" he asked, almost gently.

She held a small hairpin up. It was shaped like a leaf and shined like only Elvish metals can, though a bit dimmed with age. It was his mother's. "I think this fell our of your cloak," she replied quietly.

He took the pin, placing it in his palm and looking at it for a minute. The girl turned, beginning to walk away. "Wait," he said, and before he knew what he was doing, he pinned it into her hair. "You keep it. Something to remember me by." Reaching up as if in awe, the girl touched the pin, then just stared at him, wide-eyed. Although blurting, and making quick decisions, are most uncommon things for elves, Legolas did it again. "Don't ever lose your happiness," he said. "Life is a good thing, and I think you know it better than anybody. Don't lose that." She nodded, her blue eyes widening even larger, if possible. And although he doubted she understood a word of what he said, she began to smile. A huge grin that seemed to encompass her entire being. Slowly, as if the muscles used were rusted, he smiled as well. It felt nice, to smile again.

With that, she turned away, glancing over her shoulder only once. Right before she rounded the corner, he saw her reach up and touch the pin once more, as if to assure herself that it was truly there.

The smile stayed on his face as he walked to his chambers, the last room on the corridor. Little did he know that Thranduil was by the window at the end of the hall, turning to go to his own room. A tear leaked out of his eye as he saw Legolas walking by, a smile on his face. They were both thinking of the same person - Thranduil of Evanna and his son laughing, now that he had been reminded of Legolas' smile, and Legolas of the many times he had seen Evanna wearing the pin, now nestled in the hair of a little girl who embodied the word life.


End file.
